There He Is
by SuffocatingRomano
Summary: (Kept for storage purposes) It's okay if you don't see him-nobody does. He doesn't mind that anymore. He never minded that. What good would it do to care? Matthew/other party, one-sided Matthew/Alfred


((More abstract, yaaaay. Matthew/some...weird, other party(I guess you in a way), and hints of one sided Matthew/Alfred.))

There's a photograph locked in a drawer somewhere. It doesn't matter where; just that's it's far, far away.

In it, you see, at the very left, a slightly short, blond haired fellow with a confident smile. He can't wait to get back home and drink all his logic away. Next to him is a very tall, white-blond haired man with a long scarf. His dreams for a world under his rule are matched only by his want for company. In the center, a slightly shorter man stands with long, black hair pulled back. Shortly after this picture is taken, his voice is taken away. Beside him, a blue-coated wavy blond haired man stands with a tearful grin on his face. He will find happiness in a stranger's arms later that night, only to be abandoned, as always. And finally, on the far right, is the boy with the brightest smile and the prettiest eyes. The best build, the best hair. Everything will stay just as wonderful, as perfect for him for years to come. Him and him alone.

There are six people in this picture.

It's okay if you don't see him-nobody does. He doesn't mind that anymore. He never minded that. What good would it do to care?

Years pass. This picture stays hidden somewhere-the where is unimportant, just that it's far, far away-and nothing changes. The drunk stays drunk, the giant stays lonely, the pony-tail repressed, the romantic comes and goes, and, of course, the brightest of the bright stays bright.

And the invisible one stays picture clear.

There is a hallway. A hallway in the very center of no where. The hallway is wide, and rectangular. Wide, wide, narrow. Narrow and square. And short. So very short, but so long. Long, long, unstopping. Narrow, square, long. And white. Blinding, tearing, shrieking white.

At the end of this hall-at the end of nowhere-is a room. In this room-white and square and narrow-stands a boy. A teenager. Most likely a man. But he's so soft. And he blends in so easily. He must be a boy. yes. A boy.

The boy is crying. He's holding his balled up fists to his eyes, and he's sobbing something fierce. on the floor, by his feet, is a torn up teddy bear. A small, white teddy bear. Is this what the boy is crying over? A torn bear? Well, that's fixable.

See? Fixed.

The boy looks up, eyes wide as he sniffs. You feel a pang in your heart. How about we make this teddy bear tear-proof, hmm? Yes. That'd be nice. Slowly, in your arms, the bear moves. The boy watches with such fascination, you'd think his life was dependent upon the bear.

"Thank you." Whispers the life-dependent child.

"Your welcome." You wish you could say back.

But the bear comes at a cost, of course. A life for a life. Oh, you won't take the boy's soul. No no. But...you can take something else.

This is where the boy gets his invisibility, for the price of a bear that never remembers his name.

He watches the bright star from a distance. He becomes obsessed. The star has his full attention. The way the star moves, he watches. The way he eats, he watches. He stares with the same fascination as he did on the bear. You become angry quickly. Jealous. You own that attention, don't you? You deserve it. You deserve him, not that walking self advertisement.

So you come up with a plan. To get the invisible boy back. It's simple, really. You lead him away. You simply take the bear. Easy. You snap it's neck, and the glittering trail it leaves behind as you walk must prove as an excellent yellow brick road.

You numbly remember making the bear tear proof. Ah, well.

He follows quite easily, crying and screaming for the bear, it's lifeless husk near the door. And when he looks up, look around for the perp, he doesn't see you.

He sees that big shinning star.

He sees his brother.

He sees Alfred.

He freezes. The look on his face makes him look like the guilty one. So wide and beginning to hollow. He doesn't believe. He doesn't WANNA believe. Who would?

"Your nothing."

You start out slow. You want him to be fearful of the star, yes, but you also want him to have a deep, burning hatred. Like the love he had. Like the love he'll leave.

"I hate you.

Your so small,

So needy.

You always stare at me like a freak,

and all I wanna do is push you away.

You can't protect yourself,

Nor can you even be seen.

No one likes you.

No one cares about you.

Not papa.

Not dad.

Not that stupid bear.

Not me.

Go away.

Get the fuck away and out of my life.

Now,

Now!

Your useless,

Weak,

And nonfunctional.

I can't believe I'm related to you.

I can't believe I live right next to you.

Go.

Go and die like that stupid mangled bear.

He's better off dead anyway."

You can see him breaking. It's the most...interesting process you've ever seen.

_'Not papa.'_

The fear cracks

_'Not dad.'_

Dull transparency takes over.

_'Not that stupid bear'_

His face pales.

_'Not me.'_

He takes the look of a statue.

It's quite for a minute. Two. Three. An hour, soon. You reach out, and you touch his cheek. He doesn't even look like he's registered it.

"...speak."

He won't do anything.

"Speak."

He won't look.

"Speak!"

He won't communicate.

A sharp slap. He falls over at that. You stare at the limp form in horrifying beauty. You've completely destroyed him. His personality. His invisibility. His soul.

You leave him there, of course.

What else can you do?


End file.
